


Things Don't Get Better For Everyone But At Least They Got Better For Steve

by Scientia_Fantasia



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Steve Rogers, Canon Temporary Character Death, Everyone is Queer, M/M, steve and bucky are the bestest of friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-29
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2018-02-10 23:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2044233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scientia_Fantasia/pseuds/Scientia_Fantasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Steve/Tony fic that is more about Steve and Bucky than anything else</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things Don't Get Better For Everyone But At Least They Got Better For Steve

**Author's Note:**

> Contains: alcohol use, suicidalish thoughts, casual transphobia (non binary erasure?), casualish queerphobia and also food at some point, beware
> 
> This was supposed to be a little drabble I don't know what happened. Also I completely blanked at the title box oops sorry

Steve stared at the familiar sight that was the back of Bucky’s couch, the fading pattern still loud enough to be seen even in the dim light from the streetlight outside. It smelled vaguely like smoke, and dust, and every so often a car horn blared outside, echoing off the buildings.

It was…comforting, somehow. All of that, but mostly Bucky’s steady breathing from the floor below him. It was better than his empty apartment, at least.

Bucky…

Bucky was…

Steve’s stomach fluttered at the thought of him lying just a foot away, which was ridiculous. They’d known each other for as long as Steve could remember, why did this whole… _thing_ have to start up just now?

Why did it have to start up _ever_ , actually.

Steve curled up and pulled the thinning blanket tighter around himself, trying to convince himself to just go to sleep. He didn’t want to be up thinking about this. Again. Especially not when Bucky was right there.

“You still up?”

Steve grunted in response. Well, so much for that idea.

“Huh. Hey, did’ja know that guy who runs the store down the street is one of those…ah, what do they call them…queers?”

“I think they prefer to be called ‘gay,’ “ Steve said, before he could stop himself. He probably should have pretended he didn’t know about this stuff, but his pride got the best of him. He supposed it wasn’t exactly weird, though, considering where they lived.

“Right, yeah. Isn’t that weird, though?” Bucky said. Steve stared at the back of the couch, testing different phrases in his head.

“Um. Weird? I don’t know…is it?”

“Yeah. He doesn’t seem like one, does he?”

“I don’t think they ‘seem’ like anything in particular.”

Bucky let out an irritated huff, no doubt frustrated with Steve’s lack of compliance with his line of conversation. But Steve wasn’t going to just stand by this—though he definitely wasn’t going to explain his stance on it in clear terms, either.

“Well, you know what I mean,” Bucky said.

“I guess.”

There was silence for a moment, and Steve hoped that Bucky had given up. But, no such luck.

“Just seems weird to me,” he continued. “I can’t imagine not liking girls. I mean, they’re so…well, you know, don’t you? How can anyone not like them?”

“Well, I don’t think…I don’t think you necessarily have to give that up. Some people like both. I think…”

Steve’s heart pounded in his chest in the silence that followed his statement. He wished he could just _tell_ Bucky, but…there was no way that would turn out well. There was no way Bucky would accept that.

“I guess,” Bucky said, eventually. Then, “I still think they’re weird, though. Can’t imagine living like that.”

The pattern on the back of the couch started swimming in Steve’s vision.

“Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Guess so.”

 

* * *

 

 

Steve had no idea where he’d gotten it, but one day Bucky showed up at his apartment with a bottle of whiskey, and hey—it beat having an empty stomach.

They were about halfway through it and Steve was getting cuddly, leaning against Bucky and humming contentedly when his friend slung an arm around him. He was aware of Bucky laughing at him, but he didn’t really care much. He felt great.

“God. I love you, Buck,” he said, grinning.

“Yeah, yeah,” went Bucky, patting his shoulder, “I love you too, Steve.”

“No,” said Steve, sitting up and looking Bucky in the eye, which was a slightly more difficult task than he’d anticipated. “Like…I love you. I’m _in_ love with you, Bucky.”

Bucky stared at him, the edge of his mouth twitching upward like he was trying to decide whether or not to keep smiling.

“What?” he asked, with an unsure laugh. “What are you talking about?”

Steve put a hand on the side of Bucky’s face, and kissed him.

Bucky stayed stock still, and Steve drew back, giggling to mask the uncertainty that somehow crept into his drunken haze.

“You’re a terrible kisser,” he said, and then looked away from Bucky, at a wall, at the floor, then finally laid down on his side of the couch, tucking his reddening face into the back cushions. “I’m going to sleep,” he declared, and then stayed quiet until he did.

It didn’t exactly take long.

 

* * *

 

 

It was too bright in the room when he woke up, though when he recovered enough to check, he saw that the curtains were drawn. Well, they obviously weren’t helping.

He groaned, and went back to hiding his face in the couch cushions. Unfortunately, they were dusty, and that sent him into a coughing fit. He sat up, trying to catch his breath, and holy shit did it not help his headache.

“You finally up?” came Bucky’s voice, and Steve looked up, squinting, to see Bucky coming towards him with a glass of water. He took it gratefully, and took as big a sip as his stomach could handle. Speaking of his stomach, it was doing that weird thing that it did around Bucky again, except this time it was about a million times worse since he was woozy and nauseous and…well.

“Um,” Steve went. “I, uh…”

Bucky stood there, looking down at him as Steve fidgeted with his glass.

“I’m…sorry about…what I did. I shouldn’t have…um. I’m sorry.”

“You remember that, then,” Bucky said. He looked away when Steve looked up at him.

“Yeah,” said Steve.

“Oh,” said Bucky.

They stayed silent for a few awkward moments, before Bucky sat down next to him, and sighed.

“I’m sorry for…saying you’re weird, then,” he said, mostly to the floor.

“ ‘S okay,” said Steve. “I think I’m pretty weird, too.”

“Well, yeah, you are. But not because of that.”

Steve smacked his arm, and Bucky started laughing.

“You’re such a jerk,” said Steve.

“And you’re a punk.”

“You can’t call me that now!”

As if that was going to stop him.

 

* * *

 

 

That was the only time Steve ever got drunk. The next time he tried was in the collapsing ashes of a bar, downing glass after glass at one of the only tables left standing.

He never really got over it. He didn’t fall out of love with Bucky, it just became another part of what he felt for him. Friendship grown into infatuation into love and then shushed back into friendship, only occasionally reaching back out to tug at Steve’s heart. But he was okay with that. If Bucky was only ever going to be his friend—no, not “only.” Bucky was his friend, and Steve could never ask for anything more. Anything else. He was glad to have Bucky there for him, and was glad to find, eventually, that even with this string tugging at his heart, he could still fall in love again.

He was glad. But now there was nothing. Bucky had been taken from him, and there was only a big gaping hole where there used to be happiness, and love, and anger and sadness and everything else. The only thing Steve could feel was the glass in his hand and the tears in his eyes.

He wasn’t really sure there was much of a point in being alive anymore.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve did live. Somehow. He didn’t know a lot of the specifics, but he knew that in the mess of emotions that came from waking up seventy years in the future without having aged a day, there was a small part of him that wondered if it wouldn’t have been better if he had just stayed dead.

But he didn’t. And here he was, in the future, the present, whatever—and there were things to be done, so he didn’t have to worry about it much. He didn’t really have time to lament his lack of interpersonal relationships when there were aliens to stop from taking over the world.

There weren’t aliens all the time, though. Just that once, actually, so soon after they pulled Steve out of the ice. After that, the world was safe, and Steve was left to his empty apartment.

He kind of wished there were more aliens.

Thankfully, after a few months, things changed. He never thought he’d be so happy over having an apartment wrecked, but it held so many bad memories from even the small time he’d spent there. He was glad to pack up his few possessions and move (temporarily) into Stark tower. It was noisier, and busier, and though it was strange having a bedroom so high up…well, it started to feel like a home.

He didn’t think he’d ever feel like he was home again with Bucky gone. He wasn’t replacing him, though. There would always be a small part of Steve’s heart that was set aside for Bucky, that would sit empty.

But that didn’t mean Steve had to pay attention to it.

 

* * *

 

 

Steve stepped into their communal kitchen in Stark Tower, a few floors up from where his bedroom was. It was around 11 in the morning—pretty late for Steve, considering he just woke up, but there was a sense of accomplishment in it. He was finally breaking out of his military routine.

Natasha was there.

It was kind of weird, actually. Living with your coworkers. With the others—Bruce, Clint, Tony—he felt like he was getting to know them a little more, and maybe they were starting to get a little bit closer than just ‘coworkers.’ But Natasha…Steve liked Natasha, definitely. He would have loved to become friends with her. But she wasn’t really the type you make friends with.

That said, it was kind of extra weird to see her lounging around in the kitchen in an overly large t-shirt and shorts so short Steve only knew they were there because of past experience.

He took a seat at the counter. “Good morning,” he said.

“Morning.” Natasha didn’t bother looking away from the coffee pot. Or, coffee machine. Steve didn’t really know what to call it, but apparently the ‘pot’ part had become obsolete. “Want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Steve answered. He had spent a lot of mornings insisting on getting it himself, but Natasha kept offering, and after a while it became less of a hassle for everyone if he just let her do it. It wasn’t like it was that big of a deal. Just stick the cup under that nozzle and press a button…he didn’t see what was wrong with the old-fashioned way, but he guessed he couldn’t really complain.

He looked down at the counter, and pulled over the newspaper sitting askew, flipping through a few pages. There was a rainbow flag on one of them, under the headline “Pennsylvania courts pass decision on same-sex marriage.” He looked at it for a moment, then back at Natasha, and then folded the newspaper over to read the entire article. He had been trying to keep up with issues like this, and he was doing okay with the political side of things, but…it was hard to tell what public opinion was like just by keeping up with news sites.

Natasha placed a cup of coffee in front of him, and he gave her a smile.

“Thank you,” he said. She nodded, and leaned on the counter in front of him.

“What are you reading about?”

“Oh, um…”

He rotated the paper and scooted it towards her, tapping the article and taking the opportunity to sip at his coffee. He tried to disguise his searching Natasha’s face for a reaction, but he was pretty sure she noticed anyways. She noticed everything.

“I see,” she said, in her usual unreadable affect, sliding the newspaper back over. “Well…can I ask?”

Steve smiled slightly, giving her a questioning look. “I guess?” he said.

“Do you have a...personal investment in the subject?”

He looked back down at the paper, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Hm. Well, you’re in good company.”

Steve looked up at her, surprised, but she had already turned away, apparently concerned with the coffee maker again.

“Uh,” he went. “Really? Uh, I mean…can I ask?”

Natasha laughed, and turned back around, coffee in hand.

“Neither Barton nor I are exactly what you’d call ‘straight,’ “ she said, “I know that for sure. And Stark…well, he only gets in bed with women about half the time, if I had to estimate. Most of the sites that keep up with him just aren’t willing to admit it. I can’t say much about Banner only because he keeps more to himself, and Thor…I somehow doubt Asgard has the same ideas about gender and sexuality that we do. So. Yeah, I’d say you’re in the right place.”

“Oh,” went Steve. “Wow, okay.”

Steve looked back down to stare at the article, paying more attention to the thoughts running around in his head than the words on the page. He’d always kind of assumed everyone around him was straight, somehow. Well, that’s kind of how things seemed most of the time, wasn’t it? He didn’t stop to consider that he…might not be the only one. He wasn’t alone here.

Tony, though? Really? He always acted like such a womanizer, of course Steve assumed that was the only gender he was interested in. But if that wasn’t true…then maybe…

Steve’s heart skipped a beat.

Oh, no. No. No no no no _no_.

He covered his face, laughing despite himself.

“Wow,” he said, again, running his hands over his face. “Um…thanks for the talk. And the coffee,” he said, getting up from the counter and grabbing his cup. “I need to go…reevaluate my life, I think.”

“Good luck,” Natasha said, lips curling into a smirk.

This was not good. This was _so_ not good.

 

* * *

 

 

He hadn’t really considered that he might…well, maybe it was a little too quick to say ‘fall in love.’ He hadn’t considered that he might _feel like this_ towards anyone in this new present. Steve had shut himself off for so long and he didn’t even realize until his insides went all fluttery when Tony brushed his shoulder as he walked by, and maybe he should have felt ridiculous but he was too busy laughing a little bit harder at Clint’s jokes and being that little bit more interested in Bruce’s experiments even if he didn’t understand a lot of them. He started drawing again, actually _drawing_ instead of the occasional quick sketch on a stray piece of paper when his hands were feeling restless.

Steve was feeling things again. He didn’t even know he’d stopped.

One night he found himself taking the stairs down into Tony’s lab, sheet of paper in hand, pace slowing step by step until he stopped right in front of the doorway, staring down at his hands.

What was he even doing? This was probably really weird, actually, he should just go back upstairs and—

“Captain Rogers is here to see you, sir,” came a voice from the wall. Well, shit.

The door opened on its own, and Steve had no choice but to walk through. He had to look around for a moment to find Tony in the mess of mechanical parts down there, but soon a frazzled and soot-stained face popped up from behind a chunk of metal and wires.

“Hey there, Cap,” Tony said, pushing his goggles up with the heel of his glove. “Am I in trouble?”

“Not yet,” Steve said, making his way over to where the mechanic was sitting.

“That doesn’t sound good.”

Steve laughed, and stepped over to him, fidgeting with the paper in hand. “No, no, I just…” he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “This seems ridiculous now, but I wanted to give you this.”

He held out the paper, face-down, and stared insistently at his hand. When Tony didn’t take it, Steve looked up, to see Tony making an incredulous face. Right, his…weird. Thing.

Steve flipped the paper over, and held it up for Tony to see. It was a portrait Steve had done, of Tony hunched over one of his inventions and working diligently. Tony liked to have someone to talk at while he was working on things, so Steve had ended up sitting in the lab for long periods of time, so…yeah.

Tony stared at it, expression unchanging. Steve’s heart started beating faster, but he tried not to show his nerves.

“Huh,” went Tony. “Did you do this?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s good. Really good, actually. Why don’t you…”

Tony looked around, at tables piled high with spare parts.

“It’s liable to spontaneously combust here, actually,” Tony said, “Tell you what, could you take it up to my office? I’ll have one of my people frame it and I’ll put it somewhere nice where it won’t catch fire. You should sign it, too. If you want. You know, whatever.”

“Oh. Yeah, sure, okay,” Steve said, putting the portrait back down and looking at it himself. He really liked it, actually. Then again, he really liked the subject. Speaking of, before he lost his nerve…

“Would you like to go to dinner sometime?” he asked, looking back up at Tony. “With me,” he clarified. He tried not to wring his hands, since he was holding the portrait, but Tony was taking way too long to reply.

“…are you asking me out on a date, Cap?” Tony said, eventually, tone playful.

“Yeah. I am.”

Tony blinked. Steve actually felt kind of triumphant—not only did he manage to ask him out, apparently he’d surprised Tony, as well. That wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence.

“Um,” went Tony. “Well…I have something I’m supposed to be at tomorrow night, but I’m free Wednesday. That work?”

“That works,” Steve said. “That definitely works. Uh—well, we kind of live in the same building, so I guess we can figure something out, uh, later. I’ll let you get back to your…”

He gestured at whatever Tony had his soldering iron pointed at.

“Repulsor rays,” Tony supplied.

“Right. Well…later.”

Steve turned and walked away, maybe a little bit too quickly, trying his best to keep his pace casual. He couldn’t believe it. He was actually going on a date with Tony.

He couldn’t help a little fist pump once he was out of sight.

 

* * *

 

 

There came a day when Steve thought that finally, maybe, he was going to be okay with Bucky gone.

And then Bucky came back.

It wasn’t Bucky, at first, and Steve thought for a while that a wound from the 40’s had been pulled open for no reason, that he was going to have to heal all over again except this time there was nothing to accept—Bucky was still out there, and Steve would never forgive himself if he stopped looking. Not this time.

But Bucky showed up on their proverbial doorstep. He supposed the big tower labeled “Stark” wasn’t too hard to find. And despite a few (or so) people’s words of caution, Steve welcomed him with open arms. Literally. The second he saw him he wrapped his arms around him and didn’t let go until Bucky was complaining about being suffocated, which cleared up any doubts Steve might have had about this really being him this time.

Bucky got his own floor, and anyone who didn’t welcome him with open arms at least got used to him being there. And as for Bucky himself…

“You guys are the lamest group of superheroes I’ve ever met,” he said over dinner one night. ‘Dinner’ being leftover Chinese they were eating in Steve’s room while Bucky and him attempted to catch up on seven decades worth of movie history together.

“You meet many superheroes?”

“Well. No. But you guys are so not as cool as you seem on TV. Hawkeye and Natasha never stop making lame pop culture references, Banner doesn’t look like he could punch his way out of a wet paper bag, Thor is just way over the top and Stark is…god, I don’t even know how you stand to be around the guy. He’s so full of himself and never stops talking about us wrecking ‘his’ tower, he’s such a—“

“Uh, hey, about that.”

Bucky frowned, obligingly pausing in his tirade.

“We’re…engaged,” Steve said.

Bucky stared at him.

“You and…Stark?”

“Me and Stark.”

“Like…married engaged?”

“Like married engaged.”

Bucky blinked.

“Oh,” he said.

“Yeah,” said Steve.

“When is…when is the wedding?”

“We haven’t really set a date yet. It’s kind of hard to schedule things when you run a company and also save the world sometimes. Things tend to get in the way.”

“Right,” said Bucky. “Guess that makes sense.”

They sat there for a moment in silence, plastic forks digging pointlessly through their cheap Chinese food.

“…I can’t believe you’re getting hitched to the most self-absorbed asshole on planet Earth.”

Steve laughed, and shoved at Bucky’s shoulder, almost knocking him onto the bed.

“Come on, Buck, you know that’s not true.”

“Really? I could have sworn you just said you were engaged.”

“Yeah, but I never said I was engaged to _you_.”

Bucky made a mock-offended face so exaggerated that Steve couldn’t help but laugh at him as he made a show of clutching at his chest.

“ _Ouch_! Harsh, Steve, _harsh_.”

“Ah, come on, I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“Are you? _Are_ you?”

Steve just shrugged, still grinning from ear to ear, and Bucky shook his head. Then he patted Steve’s back, and moved his hand up to squeeze Steve’s shoulder, sighing.

“But really,” said Bucky. “I’m happy for you.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, grin falling away. “Thanks, Buck. That means a lot.”

Bucky nodded, and patted his shoulder again, looking away.

“Um,” went Steve, “so…will you be my best man?”

“Do you even have to ask?”

“Well, it’s probably going to be a big wedding, more of a media event than anything, so if you don’t want—“

“Hey,” interrupted Bucky. “I’ll be there.”

Steve let out a sigh of relief, and leaned into Bucky’s touch.

“Thank you. Again.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s finish the movie.”

“Right, right…”

Steve’s life was pretty weird.

But he could definitely get used to it.


End file.
